Let the Skyfall
by Emeline
Summary: Ten years ago, 14-year-old Usagi defeated Queen Metalia and was given a choice: a choice to hold on to the senshi forever or give them their only shot at normal lives. Time has passed, and a new villain threatens to destroy everything unless the memories are restored. The problem is, the memories aren't the only thing that's returned. 25 and 14 sure feel a lot different.


Usagi grabbed on to the hilt of the dagger sticking out of her side, trying hard to stay conscious. She knew the wound wasn't fatal, but she would have to act fast in order for it to stay that way. She took a steadying breath and turned her eyes from the scarlet eating its way through the fabric of her shirt. It didn't matter how beaten up she got. She still couldn't handle the sight of blood, especially not her own.

She looked up, seeing a dark figure walk towards her, slowly, with its head cocked to the side. Her vision was starting to blur. So much for monster of the day—she was in trouble.

"Sailor Moon!" a shrill voice broke through the darkness. "SAILOR MOON!"

"Luna," she whispered, a sob catching in her throat. "It's going to be ok, Luna. Don't worry."

The figure was so close now that Usagi could make out the outline of clawed feet. "Sailor Moon."

"Luna, don't you dare—!" she began, following the trail of Luna's eyes. It was too late. Luna jumped in front of her, haunches raised and ready to fight.

"I'm not getting to sit here and watch you die," she hissed without turning around. "Over my dead body."

The monster stepped into the light, revealing red eyes and a pale face. He grinned.

"That can be arranged."

With a small flick of his wrist, Luna went flying, shattering the window of the nearby flower shop as she fell through.

"LUNA, NOOOOOO!" Usagi screamed, trying weakly to get to her feet. It was no use.

He pinned her against the wall easily with his hand, fastening it around her neck and squeezing, Usagi's windpipe crushing in response to the force.

Black was closing in on her vision. She knew she couldn't hold on much longer. _But I HAVE to._

"Listen to me, Sailor Moon," the monster whispered, his lips barely brushing her ear. "I don't want to kill you. Not tonight, anyways. That would be too easy! Why not kill everyone you love first and then devour your sweet—"

Whatever he wanted to say would have to wait. Usagi realized with a start that everything around her had frozen. _But . . ._ she thought, _this is impossible_.

Another pair of red eyes, these ones kind yet cold, greeted hers.

"Pluto," Sailor Moon attempted to dislodge herself from her frozen captor's grip, but her limbs felt like lead. Pluto reached over and pulled her out, catching her as she stumbled.

"How?" she tried desperately to hold on to consciousness, but knew she had only the briefest of moments before her body gave in. She grabbed on to Pluto's arm, her legs threatening to give out.

Pluto smiled. "No time to explain, Princess. I'm going to get us somewhere safer."

"Wait, Luna," Usagi motioned over to the broken glass twinkling in the moonlight on the side of the road.

Usagi couldn't help it—the moment Pluto wrapped her arm around her waist to support her, Usagi's vision faded completely into black.

"Hang on, Sailor Moon," she barely heard. "Almost there."

Usagi's eyes opened as she hit a hard surface, the digger sinking in deeper. She gritted her teeth, a scream threatening to break through her throat.

Sailor Pluto was staring down at her, eyes full of worry. "Usagi. Listen to me—you're going to be all right."

"Where are we?" Usagi found it hurt now to speak. She jumped when she felt rather than saw the limp form of her beloved gray cat in her arms. Luna didn't stir as she held her closer.

Setsuna pointed to an open window near the top of the large apartment complex they stood next to. "Do you remember it?"

Something small in the back of Usagi's memories desperately tried to surface, yet she could not place it. She felt she should remember, but it was too far away . . . like cupping water in your hands and feeling it slip from between the cracks in your fingers.

"I—" she hesitated. "No, I don't."

Pluto stiffened, her knuckles white around her staff. "Not many do. I am taking you to the home of an old friend."

"An old friend?" Usagi repeated with wonder, looking into Pluto's face for more clues. Not many were friends with Usagi, far less with Sailor Moon. Hiding a secret identity and working at all hours of night did not lend itself well to relationships.

"Come in here," Pluto helped her through the door, pulling her in the direction of the elevator. She pressed the up button and waited.

Usagi looked around. There was something familiar about this place.

Pluto pushed her gently in through the elevator, looking on either side of her before entering herself. The doors closed behind her.

"Listen, Usagi. I wish I could stay, but I haven't much time. I came to warn you. Something terrible is in your future."

Though her current situation was dire, Sailor Moon still had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. They all say the same things, good or bad. Something bad is always happening in the future.

The elevator doors opened, light spilling out from its doors into the black hallway. Sailor Moon inched out after Pluto, feeling apprehensive about the consuming darkness now surrounding them. She blinked and tried to focus her eyesight, yet she still saw nothing, just the dark outline of Pluto standing next to her.

"This is where we part, Princess." Her staff lit up at the end, directing Sailor Moon to the door across from them.

Sailor Moon kept her gaze firmly fixed on her fellow senshi, refusing to look at the door. "Pluto, before you go, please explain. I know you can't tell me everything."

Pluto turned to her, sadness etched into her features. "I have broken many taboos today, yet here is my last. Ten years ago, you defeated a villain more powerful than any you had yet faced. Your victory came at a terrible price. Those nearest you sacrificed their lives to protect you, and you sacrificed your own to protect the world. In the end, good won out, and evil was banished back to the depths."

Usagi couldn't breathe. Her mind was still frustratingly blank, but something powerful bubbled up inside her.

"You had the power to resurrect yourself and others, at the cost of your memories. While with time yours returned, you made a decision not to remind the others, giving them the choice they had never had: the choice between duty or a normal life. Naturally, they having no concept of the decision placed before them, a normal life was chosen by each. It was a noble and kind act, Princess, but it certainly was foolish."

Suddenly, at the edge of her memories, Usagi saw flashes of blue, red, green, and yellow. What did it mean? And why did she feel so sad?

"The time has come for that decision to be offered to them again. It won't be easy for you or for them, but their lives are threatened. If you do not remind them, they will all be killed again, dying innocently and in ignorance of their true identity. The only way to save them is to remind them."

"Pluto," her heart was pounding her chest, so many emotions swirling inside of her. "I still can't remember. I can remember bits and pieces, something important, but I just don't know. How can I remind them if I don't remember myself?"

"This is where I leave you, Sailor Moon," Pluto said maddeningly. "I cannot stay longer. I will see you again soon."

"Pluto, no!" Usagi cried uselessly as she disappeared. She hugged Luna to her chest, trying to comfort the waves of shock running through her. No matter who she and the others were, Usagi couldn't help anyone without some medical attention. STAT.

She pulled out her phone, finding the flashlight app to at least light up the door. Nothing about it seemed special or important. Why had Pluto brought her here?

Usagi tried not to panic as she felt warm dizziness take over her brain and her vision thinned. _What am I going to do_? _I need help. Luna needs help._

Her flashlight caught the white of an envelope sticking under the door. She didn't know why, but she felt drawn to it. Careful to avoid putting pressure on the dagger or Luna, she bent down to make out the type across it.

To Dr. Mizuno

Urgent Business

Bubbles, ice, blue hair flashed through her memory. The sad face of the genius girl from her math class . . . she had no friends. They whispered about her in the hallways. She remembered seeing her transform for the first time, awe written clearly across her face as the power of Mercury flooded through her.

That was it. Mercury.

SAILOR MERCURY.

Sailor Moon fell unconscious in a heap at Dr. Mizuno's door, her mind filled with memories of the senshi who wielded ice.

* * *

Dr. Saeko Mizuno scrubbed anxiously at her hands, looking up at the clock. She and 3 a.m. had certainly become close companions throughout the years. _Why am I always here so late?_ she thought with a smile.

The hospital could be a busy, terrifying place during the day, but she found it peaceful at night. Perhaps that was because most of the staff would be home by now. Dr. Mizuno did not mind company, but she preferred to be alone when she could manage it.

After a grueling 12 hours in the OR performing a delicate spinal surgery, she did not know how she still stood on her feet. Dr. Mizuno was not yet old, but unlike her colleagues who had slowed down as retirement approached with the passing years, she found it far more satisfying to bury herself deeper in work than sit back and relax. Especially now that Ami had gone, there was nothing to hold her back.

Ami.

She would be seeing her tonight, for the first time in nine months. Though she and Ami enjoyed an amicable relationship, a neurosurgeon for a mother and a PhD nursing student for a daughter led to some understandable strain. They had agreed to skype at least three times a year, namely Mother's Day, Christmas, and Ami's birthday, but Mother's Day had come and gone this year with an emergency surgery on her end and the final exam of the Masters in nursing program on Ami's.

As Dr. Mizuno gathered her belongings and headed towards the parking lot, she was flooded with happy memories from the day of her first and only child's birth.

She had married far too young to the boy with the round face and sparkling blue eyes. Her parents had naturally disapproved, and Saeko felt foolish now that she had not heeded their advice. That was the curious thing about youth. A disapproval of anything makes the appeal increase considerably. And so they had married on a whirlwind romance, the kind of thing Saeko imagined to be the stuff of the romantic novels she never read. Though he was full of charm, Hokusai had never been able to fill their home with much more than paintings of the sea. Fortunately, her ambition and career choice kept them out of debt. But it was times like these that Seako knew the true value of money: nothing.

The romantic that he was, Hokusai was desperate to keep their doomed relationship alive.

"A baby," he whispered one night between frantic kisses trailing up her neck, the first time had touched her in months. "A baby."

Though she knew full well the demise of their marriage was a matter of when and not if, the idea had possessed her as well with curious force. "A baby," she repeated in agreement.

Perhaps it was her many years of studying pregnancy through her beginning anatomy classes that allured her to the idea. She had always wondered what it would feel like. Though Saeko was never one to trust such things as intuition, she had a feeling—whatever it meant, to this day she didn't understand—that something about their decision was right.

Nine months later, she found her typical role reversed as she laid in the hospital bed, a doctor attending to her. She felt arbitrarily robbed. After all she had learned about pregnancy, nothing could have prepared her for the pain that now consumed her. And yet, she spoke nothing, trying to keep her face as smooth as possible, so as not to belie her suffering. Hokusai kept his arms wrapped around her, whispering words she did not process. Though he was sitting next to her, their skin touching, she could feel the rift between them widening with each passing minute of labor. Knowing that a baby was coming kept them together. Now that she was here, Saeko did not know what would stop them from drifting apart.

With Seako's final heave, Ami Mizuno entered the world, blinking dazedly in the hospital lights. The Mizunos insisted on keeping her gender a secret until the day of her arrival, but both had been privately hoping for a daughter and were delighted.

The doctor took her tiny body away, a look of his concern on his face.

"Something wrong, doctor?" Hokusai asked, panic rising in his voice.

The doctor did not respond, ushering the nurses to come closer. Saeko watched as they tried everything they knew to get her baby to cry, but her serenity was not broken until more concerned nurses dashed into the room, and she was soon surrounded with a small crowd.

Once Ami Mizuno's lungs opened for the first time, Saeko found it difficult to keep her from doing much else. They rested Ami on her stomach, and she looked around the room, terrified.

Though all parents would say the same of their own children, she knew there was something special about her daughter. Something different.

"Don't worry," she crooned, stroking Ami's head to soothe her. "Look, Hokusai—she's got your eyes."

He smiled, looking into her tiny blue eyes. "Yes. She will always be mine."

Of course, Hokusai's promise was not one he could keep, and he left the day after Ami's sixth birthday, leaving behind a solitary painting and a chessboard. Though Saeko could not deny that her own heart ached that day, it ached much more for the child crying at the door, begging her father to come back. Ami Mizuno's delicate smile became rare in the coming years.

Dr. Mizuno sighed as she opened the door to the car, starting the ignition. Yes, she preferred the night shift. But tonight, she actually wished for some company to keep her from these memories. She turned up the radio, not caring what sound came out, so long as it was loud enough to cover up her thoughts. Her trip home was unremarkable, far less stressful than her commute earlier that day when there had been more cars on the road.

She ascended in the apartment complex elevator to the tenth floor, replacing her car keys in the left internal pocket of her purse and pulling out the house keys from the right. The light in the hallway was still burnt out (she would call the landlord tomorrow if it wasn't fixed by the afternoon), and she could barely make out her door from the residual light of the elevator.

There was something lying at the doormat . . . was it a package? She couldn't make out the shape in the poor lighting. No, she squinted, trying to make it out, it was too big to be a package.

She pulled out a mini flashlight from the emergency internal pocket of her purse and flashed it around. A body! Though most people in her position would panic, Dr. Mizuno did not find the scene too distressing. At least, not yet. Many people had come to her door, expecting that they would receive better care from her personally than they would at the hospital. They were, of course, all mistaken. She did not know how a journalist had been so careless as to print her address in the article about her receiving an emeritus professorship, but he had pulled it before too many had seen, and she found the thought of moving too inconvenient.

"Hello," she called out, inching towards her door. "I can see you there. Do you need help? Are you all right?"

The slumped figure did not respond.

 _It's a girl, looks like she's in her mid-twenties, prime time for over drinking and the emergence of mental health issues. Height, approximately 4'11". Weight, somewhere between—_

She stopped her analysis, suddenly realizing in the light of the flashlight that she was looking down into a face she did not believe was real. Could it be? She had seen rumors of sightings of the legendary Sailor Moon, fighting crime and delivering justice, but no one had actually _seen_ her. There had only been claims. Perhaps this girl was mentally ill, running around dressed as an urban legend?

"Who are you?" she asked tentatively.

She did not respond, but upon closer inspection, Dr. Mizuno could see the hilt of a dagger lodged in her side, the wound bleeding heavily onto the concrete. An unconscious feline, clearly badly injured, was lying next to her. She stifled a gasp, whipping out her phone to call 911.

A gloved hand reached up and grasped her forearm, knocking the phone to the ground.

"Dr. Mizuno," the girl said in a raspy voice. "Can you help me?"

The doctor took a moment to recover from her shock. She reached out for the fallen phone. "Yes, I'm calling 911 right now. Someone will be here to help you immediately. Don't worry."

"Saeko," she pushed herself up into a sitting position, despite the older women's protests. "You know who I am. And you know that I can't just show up at the hospital. Do you want my secret cover blown?"

"How . . . how do you know my name?" Perhaps she should call 911 for the police first.

"Your daughter Ami and I were classmates in junior high. I know it was a long time ago, but she introduced me to you. Meeting the top doctor in Japan is not a moment I easily forgot," she explained calmly, attempting a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Look, Dr. Mizuno, I know this looks bad. Really bad. But I need your help, and no one else can help me. I need this sewn up—" she motioned towards the wound in her side, wincing as she continued, "I need a vet for my cat, and most importantly of all, I need to talk to your daughter."

"Who are you?" Dr. Mizuno repeated, flashing her light directly into the girl's blue eyes. "And why should I trust you?"

Usagi chuckled. "Who am I? Are the blonde pigtails not obvious enough? I'm Sailor Moon."

* * *

Mizuno Ami collapsed into the nearest chair and scrutinized her shift reports (she had only been able to check on them four other times today . . . she hoped against hope that there would be no mistakes). Had she only treated 6 patients in the last 12 hours? She shook her head and smiled. Time spent in the ER moved according to its own time frame.

Patient 1

70-year-old male

 _Chest pains_

DISCHARGED 12:05 p.m.

Ami had a funny feeling he'd be back again. He escaped a real heart attack by only a hair, and she couldn't help but gasp when she saw his cholesterol and triglyceride levels. She'd overheard him calling his wife and asking for some bacon as soon as he was released.

Patient 2

Mid-60-year-old female

 _Lifelong smoker with respiratory distress_

There was something haunting about her. Her blue eyes hung mournfully off her face, making Ami shiver. Though the patient was in her mid-sixties, Ami was truly surprised to discover she wasn't 101. She looked the part.

Patient 3

42-year-old female

 _(Mother of two)_

 _Potential stroke_

Ami scheduled her in for a meeting with the speech pathologist on Wednesday. She knew it was likely that her newly acquired speech delay might cause her to lose her job as a teacher. Ami couldn't help but watch the thin faces of her children, wondering what would happen to them now.

Patient 4

8-year-old female

 _Broken arm (fell off the monkey bars)_

DISCHARGED 6:25 p.m.

This only daughter was clearly the pride and joy of her parents. Her mother was in tears as the doctor set the arm, and acted as if he himself had broken the bone. Everyone was relieved to see her go.

Patient 5

51-year-old male

 _Chest pain (mowing grass)_

CODE STEMI

They were going to have to move him to the ICU that night. Ami felt sorry that he was missing his anniversary dinner with his wife.

Patient 6

85-year-old female

 _Nursing home patient with difficulty breathing and abdominal pains_

Ami had seen many cranky old women in her five years as a nurse, but this woman took the word "cranky" to a whole new level.

"Hey Ami," a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes, Cassandra?" she answered without taking her eyes off the chart. "Is something wrong?"

"Actually, yeah. I'm scheduled for my shift to start in the next half hour, but I can't come in. I was hoping you'd be able to spot me this one time?" She delicately placed her hand over Ami's chart, an engagement ring sparkling in the lights overhead. "It's a special night for us. I can't stay here."

Ami concealed her sigh. Cassandra picked up on her inability to say no (not to mention her complete lack of social life) within their first week together in clinicals, and she had abused it ever since. Spotting her this "one time" usually meant something more like once a week.

Ami looked longingly at the calendar pinned to the wall left of her friend. September tenth only came once a year. She couldn't.

"Look, Cassandra," Ami began, the smallest bit of a plea in her voice. "I know you've got stuff going on, but—"

"Oh, come on, Ames!" Cassandra interrupted, leaning her hip against the desk next to them. She clicked her tongue impatiently. "I know you can't sleep at night, and you don't have a boyfriend. What else are you going to do? Study? Our PhD classes don't start up for another month. You don't even have something to study yet."

Ami blushed. _How does she know I'm not sleeping? I haven't said a word to her about it . . . does it show?_

"Cassandra," Ami began again, her voice small. "Look, it's my birthday today, not that that matters," she muttered, "but it's the one day of the year I get to Skype my mom. I haven't seen her for a year now, and we haven't spoken in nine months."

Cassandra stared back at her incredulously. "So? Reschedule? Doesn't seem like it's that big of a deal. I mean if it's your birthday, your mom is going to talk to you, right? Just let her know your shift changed."

If only it were that simple. Ami hesitated.

"Ok." She took a steading breath, the wheels in her mind turning at top speed. "Tell you what. Let's make a deal. I get to Skype with my mom for at least half an hour, and then, I'll take the rest of your shift for the night. Deal?" she finished breathlessly.

Cassandra sighed and rolled her eyes. "I thought that we were friends, Ames. Why are you being like this?"

"We are friends. And I'm really, really, sorry, Cassandra, but I have to talk to my mom. It's been too long."

"Whatever," Cassandra swiped her badge impassively. "I'll see you at one. Don't be late."

She sauntered back onto the floor, barking something at the medical assistant as she passed.

Relief pooled into Ami's stomach. She leaned up against the desk for support. Had that conversation gone on much longer, she didn't know if she could have held off. Cassandra was an excellent nurse, but she would have been perhaps better suited to sales.

She glanced down at her her wristwatch. She had just enough time to drive home, make a small meal, and talk with her mom for fifteen minutes. It would be tight, but as her mother worshiped at the altar of brevity, Ami was not worried about the length of their conversation.

She put her ID badge in her pocket and headed for the exit. She pushed open the heavy hospital doors, a heat wave blasting her face; this summer had been particularly hot and humid. She walked, remembering birthdays gone by, when people used to ask her if her new age felt any different. Ami went from birthday to birthday, wondering, perhaps even hoping, that she would feel something different, anything different than numb. Twenty-four it turned out, didn't feel any different, either, but at least she had a job that kept her busy enough not to get lost in her thoughts. She was happy to be speaking with her mom. _Happy. I haven't felt you in so long_. _. . who can feel happy when there's something missing? I wish I knew what it was . . ._

She continued in pensive silence, careful to step over each of the cracks in the sidewalk. Although the walk from the hospital to her apartment was a mere ten minutes, Ami was still surprised to see her front door so soon. She shook her head, scattering her existential thoughts and headed straight for the kitchen. Her stomach grumbled approvingly in response. A lone apple stood in the middle of her fridge, bright red in contrast to all of the white emptiness surrounding it.

It was times like these where Ami wondered how many more weeks she could be too busy to grocery shopping before she would find herself in one of her own units, a feeding tube shoved up her nose. _Maybe I can get groceries tomorrow?_

Thinking about making time to make her way over to the grocery store, somehow sleep off twenty-fours' worth of work in the ER, and do another shift all before this time tomorrow made Ami's chest contract. It was hard to breathe.

 _Not this again_ , she thought miserably, sinking into the chair nearest her. Sweat dripped from the ends of her hair down her neck—her AC must be out again, add that to the to do list.

As soon as she was sitting, the exhaustion she had been deliberately ignoring for hours seemed to catch up with her all at once. Ami was too tired to even pull her scrubs off and change into something cooler. She sat for a few moments, taking a bite from her apple and savoring it. She felt her eyelids slip closed, her limbs go slack . . .

 _I need to wash my face. Can't fall asleep now._

She stood up resolutely, walking in the direction of her bathroom despite the protests from her legs.

Ami pulled her overgrown bangs back from her face, reaching into her cupboard for face wash. She squeezed a dollop of Cetaphil into her right hand, turning on the cold water with her left. She sighed. Of course Cassandra asked her to do a late shift at the one time she was actually feeling tired. How long had it been now since she had slept a full 8 hours, much less slept 8 hours at a decent time of night?

She scrubbed at her face, trying to inject some life back into her aching body. _It's ok. It's just another twelve hours. Nothing I haven't done before_.

She glanced at her phone, lying next to her on the sink. _Fifteen more minutes_.

Ami fought off urge to collapse here on the tiled floor, and let out all the tears pooling at the edges of her eyes. _Better to get it out now before she sees._

Her mother was not the emotionally available type.

She shoved her phone down her pocket and walked back into the front room, taking in the immaculate room and wondering where she could she sit without falling asleep. Ami started down at the lamp stand next to her, fingering the birthday card that lay there. It had been many years since she and her father were close, and yet he sent a birthday card every year, a watercolor painting always adorning the front. She didn't know how he managed to procure her address no matter where she moved, but he had not missed a birthday yet, though his cards usually came at least two weeks too late. Not this year. This one had arrived only yesterday, not a moment too soon. The birthday cards never had a return address nor pictures. She wondered what he would be up to now, wherever he was.

Ami jumped when she felt her phone vibrating next to her hip.

"Mom?" she asked aloud, furrowing her brows in surprise. Had she miscalculated the time of their arranged phone call? It was very unlike her to be anything but on time, including being too early.

She pressed the green accept button on the screen, trying hard to push all the possibilities to the back of her mind. If her mom wasn't ok—Ami couldn't think about it.

Her mom's face lit up the screen. "Ami? Ami? Are you there?"

Ami cradled the phone in her hand, smiling. "Hi mom. I'm right here."

Her mom looked into her face. "Are you still sleeping? You don't look so good."

Trust her mom for truth bombs. "Mom, I'm about to start my PhD in Pediatric Oncology. Of course I am not sleeping. Would you expect anything less of me?"

"Certainly not. Although I am sorry that you seem to have inherited your mother's propensity for over-working," she said proudly, belying her true feelings about Ami's work habits.

"I'm not."

Her mother smiled appreciatively. "How are you, Ami? I am sure you don't have much time, but tell me all that you can."

"I," she began. Ami mentally sorted through all of the memories and thoughts swirling in her mind, desperately wishing that she had someone to talk to, someone who would listen. "Things are great. I have to be back at the hospital in about twenty minutes—I'm covering for a friend who had an emergency—but I am doing well. Really well. C-couldn't be happier."

It felt false and hollow, but she was not worried that her mom would see past her cheerful facade.

"Then I could not be happier for you. Listen, Ami, there's someone here with me who wants to talk to you. It's important."

Ami opened her mouth to object, but closed it again quickly. How many more people would intrude on her time with her mother before she had to go back?

Her mom handed over the phone to some unknown figure in the background.

"Don't worry, Ami, I'll make sure you both get to say good bye."

Ami stared back into eyes she knew so well, yet could not recognize. She blinked, trying to re-focus her vision. Was the face from her childhood video games really looking back at her?

"Sailor Moon?"

The girl nodded, trying (and failing spectacularly) not to cry. "Hi, Ami. It's been a long time. I've missed you."

"You . . . you know me?" she racked her brains, but she could not recall a single memory they had shared outside of her time staring at a screen in the arcade. She didn't know this girl. She couldn't.

"Yeah, you and I go way back. We were actually good friends at Juuban Junior High School. I'm not surprised you don't remember. It was ten years ago, and besides, I am in disguise." She winked.

Ami laughed nervously. "Ten years is a long time."

Ami could not remember one time in her life that she had forgotten a face. Must be the combination of too many late nights. That was the only reasonable explanation.

"Well, Ami, I know how busy you are, and I don't want to take too much of your time," Sailor Moon said as way of transition. "But I've come to your mother's house tonight in hopes that I could return something you lost."

Ami mentally scanned her possessions, all immaculately organized throughout her home. She had not lost anything since the age of three.

"Are you sure it's mine?" _Who holds on to stuff from junior high?_

"Quite." Sailor Moon held up a bright blue object, a strange symbol plated across the oblong top. "This is yours. I know we're far away, but I'm going to have it delivered to you tomorrow. Listen to me, Ami. I know there are questions you've had for years. This pen holds the answers to all of them and more. It will tell you who you are, where you belong—all you have to do is open it. But if you choose to, you cannot again forget what it shows you. You will be bound to that destiny. Choose wisely. Do you understand?"

No, Ami didn't understand. She could not understand how her mother could have allowed this stranger to come into their home, much less to speak to her on the one day a year they saw each other, and then allow her to give the world's most cryptic and ludicrous speech.

"Can I speak to my mother now?"

Sailor Moon's eyes glistened, her face sad. "Of course, Ami. I hope to see you soon."

 _Right_. "Perhaps," she said politely.

Her mother's face reappeared on the screen. "Ami, I know you have to go. I love you. Thanks for calling me."

"Yeah . . ." Ami trailed off, not bothering to mask the disappointment in her voice. "I'll see you in a couple months?"

"Yes. Best of luck. I love you, Ami."

"I love you, too, Mom."

Ami hung up the phone and collapsed onto the ground, sighing. She was so tired, so confused, and the one thing she had been looking forward to for weeks now was just ruined by a junior high school friend dressed up as a video game character who wanted to return her pen?!

She jumped when she saw the time. She had better get back before Cassandra ripped her a new one on top of everything else.

She rushed out her door, stopping when she saw the outside lawn, covered in frost. _Frost? In this heatwave?_ It glittered invitingly, almost as if it knew her.

It was all Ami could do but run to work. She had never been so eager to leave her home.

* * *

He crept into the darkness, holding his breath. Of course it had been his lot to lose the bet, meaning that he, and he alone, had the responsibility to inform the mistress of their failure.

 _Don't shoot the messenger_.

He did not dare look around, though he knew if he did, he would never be able to make anything out. She didn't like her servants to be the nosy type.

"Your grace?" he called out, falling to his knees just in case. "I come with . . . with news, your grace."

He held his breath, his whole body shaking. He knew she was here, but no one quite knew where.

He cleared his throat, daring to continue. "Mercury will soon be awakened. She found her."

He jumped, falling on to his face, as he felt a soft breath against the back of his neck. He felt a knife being pressed against his jugular vein as he lie on the ground, panting.

"Then what are you doing here?" she asked sweetly.

"I—I came to tell you," he choked out.

She laughed, the sound echoing throughout the room. He gasped as the knife sliced easily through the flesh of his cheek.

"Find her. Now."


End file.
